by Derek | May 7, 2016 | Saturday Sonnet, Writing
friday In hindsight, some despair is evident, But, hey, what else are you supposed to do when pheromones, it seems, are heaven sent, and order you, put bluntly, to go screw? Whilst every single Gay in London town Comes freshly from the Spa or from the Gym, you squeeze...
by Derek | Aug 16, 2015 | Memories
I don’t remember much of the sixties, and what I can remember consists of me lying on my back with a bottle within easy reach. Some things never change. I had an interesting childhood, as both my parents were international Nazi Hunters. Kidding: I grew up in Dublin,...
